by Linsey Hall
Weird.
Another demon charged me as an icicle flew down at him, piercing the skull of his nearest compatriot.
A quick glance overhead showed Cass and Del, hanging out of their windows and firing their magical weapons. Aidan leapt out of one window, transforming into a griffon on his way down. Golden magic swirled around him, dissipating to reveal a massive winged beast with a huge beak and fierce eyes. His feathers gleamed in the lamplight as he hurtled toward a demon on the ground. Roarke shifted midair as well, his black wings stretching wide as his demonic form appeared. He swept through the sky, aiming for the mage who was throwing fireballs.
I turned back to my attackers as two lunged toward me. Though I’d only looked skyward for half a second, it’d been enough time. One demon grabbed the box that I clutched to my chest, tearing it away. He yanked so hard that the leather strap snapped and I stumbled forward.
The thief dodged away as another came for me, blade raised. His flame-colored eyes blazed.
“Come on now,” he growled.
Chapter Three
Panic beat frantic wings within my chest as I swung my sword, desperate to cut him down so that I could rescue the beaker. He blocked my strike with his blade, then swept out with his massive claws. They raked across my side and stomach, sending pain flaring.
I gasped, biting back a cry and stabbing my sword toward his middle. He dodged, swiping out with his claws again. This time, I was faster, receiving only a shallow slice to my ribs. He growled his displeasure and I thrust my blade up into his gut.
His eyes widened and his mouth gaped. I kicked him in the middle, dislodging him from my sword. He fell backward and I turned from him, searching for more threats. Ares beheaded a demon while Aidan chomped one in two with his massive beak. I couldn’t see Roarke, but assumed he was in the sky or behind me.
The thief who’d stolen the beaker wasn’t far off, only ten feet away and dodging fireballs shot by Cass from above. I sprinted toward him, lungs burning and the wounds in my side aching with pain.
Another demon attacked me from the side, but a fireball landed on his head when he was only feet away. He roared as it flattened him to the ground. I dodged his flaming body, but another demon sprinted for me.
I had to get to that box! “Cass! Del! Backup!”
The demon who raced for me was only three feet away. I was about to swing with my sword—which would have been highly ineffective as I was still running after the demon who had stolen the box—when an icicle plunged through the top of his head. Del’s weapon of choice.
Blood spurted and my stomach lunged at the grisly scene, but I turned back, racing for my prey.
“Go!” Cass shouted. “We’ve got your back!”
I sprinted harder. Demons came for me, but each was struck down by a fireball or icicle. Flesh burned and blood sprayed, an apocalypse of demon death all around me.
But I ignored it, trusting Del and Cass as I gained on my prey. He was dodging icicles sent by Del and doing a fabulous job of not getting hit, but they slowed him down enough that I caught up.
I plunged my blade into his back, stumbling with the force of my blow.
He staggered, roaring as he fell forward, and hit the ground with a heavy thud, the box clattering to the ground at his side. One of Cass’s fireballs exploded against his black.
I scrambled forward, reaching for the box and clutching it near. A quick survey of the battle showed that the tide had turned.
We were winning.
Ares and Roarke were beheading their own demons while Ares sliced the neck of another. The rest were on the ground.
I hugged the box to my chest and grabbed the fallen demon’s shoulder, dragging him onto his back. The cuts in my side screamed with pain and my blood dripped onto the sidewalk. I ignored it.
Where was the damned tattoo?
There had to be one. These had to be Drakon’s men. I yanked at his high collar, pulling it back to reveal a tattoo of a writhing dragon, fangs bared and eyes gleaming.
Shit.
“They’re Drakon’s men!” I called. “Search the mages!”
My hands shook as I scavenged his pockets, searching for an ID or anything. But I wouldn’t get lucky with a demon. They rarely carried ID. Someone would have to find one on a mage.
The demon’s body began to crumble to dust. I cursed, stumbling back onto my butt. Normally, demon bodies took a little while to return to their underworld after they’d been killed. But anyone hired by Drakon seemed to be enchanted with a spell that poofed their bodies immediately.
He didn’t want us tracking him. It was an effective method.
I scraped the flyaway hair from my face and dragged myself to my feet, clutching the box to my chest. My breath heaved as I leaned heavily against the wall, my wound and the fading adrenaline making me shake like a terrier in a thunderstorm.
All around me, the bodies of our attackers had turned to dust. Ares banished his shadow sword to the ether and strode toward me, a limp not slowing him down.
“Are you okay?” Concern darkened his voice.
“Fine.” I gasped as pain flared in my side. A glance down revealed blood soaking through my blue T-shirt, coating the whole right side of my body. It’d traveled all the way up to the wiener dog who was sitting in a hotdog bun. “Shit.”
“You aren’t okay.” Ares limped the last three feet toward me. My gaze went to his left thigh, where blood dripped down his leg.
“Maybe not quite.” I sucked in shallow breaths, trying to control the pain.
Aidan landed with a thud next to us. He was so big that his beak was level with my head. Blood and gore smeared the smooth surface. Roarke landed next to him, dark gray skin speckled with blood that wasn’t his.
“Drakon’s men?” Roarke asked.
“Yes.” I pressed a hand to the wound at my side, immediately cringing as pain flared. Right, bad idea. “Let’s get inside.”
Ares held out an arm, letting me lean on him. I got the sense he wanted to sweep me into his arms—that was a real Ares thing to do, I was learning—but that was a shitty idea with a wound like mine.
By the time we made it to the green door that was only fifteen feet away, the bodies of our attackers were no more than tiny piles of dust that would blow away on the wind.
I let us into the building and then made the laborious climb to my apartment door, grateful that I was on the first floor.
Del and Cass waited on the landing, faces pale and worried.
“Are you okay?” Cass asked.
“Yeah. Beaker is fine,” I said.
“I meant you, dummy.” She nodded to my wound. “That’s ugly.”
A wry grin twisted my mouth. “Thanks. Ruined my hot dog shirt.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” Del said.
Cass pushed open my apartment door and held it open. I staggered through, dropping heavily onto the couch. My arms shook as I held up the box. “Check the beaker.”
Del took it and the key I then handed her. She set the box on the coffee table and knelt, then unlocked the padlock and lifted the lid. A sigh escaped me at the sight of the unbroken beaker still nestled in its custom foam bedding. “Thank fates. They didn’t get it.”
Ares knelt at my side, his hand lifting my jacket away from the wound. “This is deep. Three claw marks.”
“Are they poisoned?” Cass asked.
“Don’t know.” I gritted my teeth. “Burns like hell, though.”
“I’ll heal you.” Ares raised a wrist to his mouth, ready to bite.
“No!” I held up a hand. “No, I’ve already had too much.”
I was worried about the side effects from his blood. “Aidan, can you heal me?” His gifts came with no side effects.
“Yes.” Aidan stepped forward.
Possessiveness—or something like it—flared in Ares’s eyes and his knuckles whitened. His jaw hardened, as if he didn’t like the idea of another man touching or healing me, but then he nodded
and leaned back, a frown of resignation on his face. I reached for his hand. At least he could control his inner cave man.
Ares squeezed my hand, then released it and moved away so that Aidan could kneel at my side. His dark hair gleamed in the light as he leaned over me and hovered his hand over my wounds. Warmth flowed from his palm, soothing the burning ache until it faded to nothing. My muscles finally relaxed as the pain dissipated.
The lack of agony was pleasure in itself.
Aidan sat back. “That should do it.”
I leaned up and peered at my side, nudged the torn shirt away until I could see that my flesh was once again unbroken. “Thanks.”
“I don’t think they were after the beaker,” Del said.
My gaze darted to her. She still knelt by the box.
“What do you mean?”
“Even after the demon stole the box, all the rest kept going for you. It was easier to see the pattern from up above.”
“I’m with Del,” Cass said. “Drakon’s men were after you, not the beaker.”
“Well, maybe both,” Del said. “But they were definitely after you.”
I slumped back against the couch, my mind racing. “Damn.”
“Why?” Ares demanded.
Del and Cass shrugged. “No idea.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Why now? Why me?”
“Maybe because you’re the one who chased him up the stairs at his compound and made him evacuate?” Cass asked. “It’s not the best theory, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”
“All I’ve got too,” Del said. “He saw you, though. You were the biggest threat to him.”
“Well, he now knows where we live,” I said.
“How’d he find that out?” Ares asked.
“Powerful guy like him…” I said.
“But he can’t get into the building,” Cass said. “The protections are too strong.”
“I’ll stay the night with you,” Ares said.
Pleasure flared in my chest at his words, followed quickly by worry.
After an injury like the one I’d just had, and as exhausted as I was, I wanted nothing more than to visit my trove. It was like a hunger inside me, something I couldn’t ignore. And even though I trusted him, I couldn’t invite him up there. Not yet.
My trove was private. The most personal thing in my life.
“Thank you, but not tonight. You already said you had to go back to the Vampire Court for something important. Do that. I’ll be with these guys.” I gestured to Cass and Del. “And no one can get in here, truly. We already had great security, and Aidan amped it up by a thousand a few months ago.”
“I insist.” He knelt by my side, eyes worried. That softness was such a contrast to the hardened shell that he always wore.
As much as I wanted to be with him—he was complex. My feelings for him were complex. The situation was freaking complex. And I needed to heal. To rest amongst my trove to get to one hundred percent strength.
Being with Ares… it certainly wasn’t restful.
I had to be ready for whatever came at me. I didn’t have time for distractions. Not now.
I reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Thank you. But go do your business in the Vampire realm. It’s important, right? And I’ll be safe here.”
His eyes flickered, indecision clearly warring within him. Finally, his mouth flat and his gaze resigned, he nodded. “I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t leave the apartment until I return.”
I almost snapped at him that I knew how to take care of myself, but I bit my tongue. He meant well by it. I wouldn’t make a habit of letting him tell me what to do, but right now, if it made him comfortable enough to give me the space I needed…
“Okay.” I nodded, squeezing his hand once more. “Go do your thing.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, sending heat streaking through me at a most inappropriate time, then leaned down and whispered raggedly in my ear, “Be careful.”
I sucked in a ragged breath and met his gaze. Go. Don’t go.
I didn’t know what to say.
But he saved me from that by standing and nodding to the others, then leaving.
I swallowed hard and turned to my friends. “Thanks for having our backs out there.”
“Anytime.” Concern shadowed Cass’s eyes. “You need anything?”
“Just a shower and a nap. Then let’s start fresh tomorrow.”
“Well, you call us if you need us,” Del said.
I smiled at her. “Always.”
I didn’t look in the mirror as I went into the bathroom to shower. The memory of the blood splattering on my face was enough to remind me that I didn’t actually want to see my reflection.
Despite Aidan’s healing ability, all my muscles ached as I leaned into the crummy old shower to crank on the water. Though my deirfiúr and I put vast quantities of loot into our troves, you’d never know it from the way our apartments looked.
As the shower heated up, I leaned my aching body against the small sink counter and stared at the box holding the beaker. I’d brought it into the shower for paranoia’s sake, really, because once it was within the building, it was safe.
Mordaca was right. It was an unassuming thing, to be so powerful and coveted. Now I just had to figure out the potion that would allow me to use it. Because damned if I didn’t want to understand the prophecy about dragons. Real dragons were supposed to dead. Gone. So what did Drakon want with them? Whatever it was, I couldn’t let him have it.
But we had so little to go on. Our clues were hardly even clues. Was I really capable of this? I knew so little about my past and my magic. My qualifications… Not impressive.
Suddenly, I realized that steam had filled the room and warmed my cheeks. I’d been staring at the beaker too long and wallowing in self-doubt. That would get me nowhere. I shoved the miserable thought away.
My muscles twinged as I shrugged out of my clothes and climbed into the water. Showering was a chore and the water ran pink—gross—but I was glad to finally be clean.
I was moving like a sloth by the time I shut off the water. As quickly as I could, which wasn’t very quickly at all, I dried off and pulled on a fluffy robe.
With the box containing the beaker tucked under my arm, I climbed the stairs to my trove. It was only three flights up, but it felt like a hundred. Though my wound was closed, every inch of me hurt.
By the time I climbed up into the greenhouse, I was anxious to be amongst my treasures. It was more than my normal excitement over visiting my trove. This felt like a compulsion.
A need to be in my garden.
I shut the door behind me and turned to face my treasures.
The jungle spread out around me, plants sitting on tables and dangling from the ceiling. Vines and leaves and flowers filled the space, drinking the water that dripped from the custom irrigation system I’d installed. Whenever the water turned on, it felt like it was raining and I loved it.
Every muscle in my body relaxed just being here, loosening like I’d been to an hour-long massage. I grinned at the sight of my three cars, sitting on the other side of the jungle and out of reach of the sprinkler system. But it was the plants that called me this time.
I walked toward a table full of orchids. Their blooms were a riot of colors—pink, yellow, orange, white. It was strange, but as I walked, I almost felt stronger. As if some of the exhaustion and muscle aches from my wounds were fading.
The deep need that I’d had to be up here—the one that had made me banish Ares from the house—had settled somewhat, curling up in my chest like a snoozing kitten.
I set the box containing the beaker on the table, finding a space between two pots containing dragonfruit plants. Their thick green stalks supported strange red fruit that looked like something Dr. Seuss might have invented. I’d worked my butt off for this place, putting every penny I had into building my greenhouse.
I loved my plants. And I was almost sure they loved
me. Even now, it seemed like the dragonfruit plants were leaning toward me.
I shook my head, trying to clear the image. That was too weird. Had to be the exhaustion. We’d been going straight for nearly two days after our last big sleep. I was due for a nap.
I strolled by the plants, running my fingertips over leaves and petals. It almost felt like energy flowed into me.
I made my way toward the Firebird, slipping inside the red car and leaning back against the seat to gaze out at my own personal paradise.
It wasn’t long before my eyelids slid closed, lulled by the sense of rightness that I felt just being here. As I drifted in the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, an errant thought tugged at my mind.
Something was up with my magic. Particularly around plants. I didn’t know what it was, but something new seemed to be coming online…
At first, I didn’t realize that it was a dream.
I was back in the Monster’s dungeon, in the lair of the man who’d stolen me away from my family. In the place where I’d first met Cass and Nix, when we’d been so young. Children still, all of fourteen.
Too young for the horror of stone floors and walls that dripped with water. Too young for the echoes of the screams of those down the hall. Too young to be holed up in a place with no light and only rats for company.
But that didn’t matter. I was back there anyway, unable to escape.
My heart thundered in my chest, an aching beat that hurt my ribs. Sweat chilled my skin despite the cool air of the dungeon. I gripped the stone floor upon which I sat, digging my fingernails into the crevices in the stone.
I was alone.
Cass and Nix had not yet been brought here. Though I was within the dream, I was separate, watching. I tried to maintain that, to remain an observer, but I was dragged back into the mind of my fourteen-year-old self.
Dry sobs wracked my chest, but no tears poured from my eyes. I’d run out of tears long ago. Ever since they’d stolen me from my life, along with my mother and father. Weeks ago, a month? I had no idea. I’d lost track of time in this dark dungeon.
Come for me, Mum and Da.
But they couldn’t hear my prayers. They’d have come if they could. They’d been stolen along with me—but they were so strong and fierce. Of course they could break free and come for me. They were my world. They could do anything.
